Everyday Acceptance

When I decided as a young man that I wanted to write books professionally, my life, unbeknownst to me at the time, quickly became an ongoing lesson in acceptance and rejection. I largely perceived this only in the most obvious and practical expression – the letters from agents and editors responding to my queries. I hated those letters, hated how desperate I felt as I checked the mail each day, hated the mixture of dread and hope in my heart as I opened them, and then hated, of course, the predictable reply. I yearned for ongoing, endless acceptance, without any drama or dread.

I was reminded of those letters recently after I’d finished teaching a class at a conference. It so happened the class was about success and failure, though that isn’t what reminded me of the dread and drama. As I was flying home, I thought again of how calm and engaged and at home I felt as I was teaching. Now that’s the way I want to relate to people, I thought. That’s the conversation I want to have with other writers.

The plane roared on and I looked down at the clouds beneath us. I glanced at the strangers beside me on my row, at the flight attendants passing out pretzels, listened to the hum of the engine carrying us home. It wasn’t just writers, I thought, it was everyone; and it wasn’t just everyone, it was everything. That is how I wanted to feel as I thought and focused and went about my day. That’s the conversation I want to have with life.

As I landed, I thought about the difference between how I always felt while teaching and writing, and how I often felt otherwise, particularly when I was a young man. I saw that I had been rejecting myself on a regular basis in the smallest of ways for most of my life. I was used to it. It was normal. And I hated it. Every time I thought results mattered more than my experience, I rejected myself. Every time I worried what other people would think of my stories, I rejected myself. Every time I sought someone’s approval, I rejected myself.

I remembered also how I used to dream of my life as a successful author. When that happened, I believed, I would finally be able to relate to everyone and everything the way I really wanted to. I would only talk about the things I cared about, that I knew actually mattered. What a fine time that would be, I used to think. I could see it so clearly it was like it was right in front of me, which, of course, it always was.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com